Insomnia (2002)

B+
SDG

For almost half of the year, the sun never
rises on the Alaskan tundra above the Arctic Circle; for another
five months, it never sets. To visitors, the constant daylight of
summer in the Land of the Midnight Sun can be punishing, as we
see in Insomnia, director Christopher (Memento) Nolan’s remake of the 1997
Norwegian film of the same title (admired by some but unseen by
many more, including me).

Moral/Spiritual Value

Age Appropriateness

MPAA Rating

Caveat Spectator

When seasoned LA detective Will Dormer (Al Pacino) arrives in
the fictional Alaskan town of Nightmute to investigate the murder
of a 17-year-old girl, he quickly takes control of the situation.
He’s decisive, observant, methodical. Then comes his first
stumble: Standing by a window in a stream of sunshine, Dormer
announces that he wants to question the victim’s boyfriend
immediately, pulling him right out of his high-school classes in
order to catch him off-guard. Someone points out that it’s ten
o’clock. When Dormer doesn’t blink, the other shoe drops: "At
night."

Daylight floods Dormer’s life, relentless, ubiquitous — like
the penetrating glare of the ongoing Internal Affairs probe back
in LA, where Dormer may or may not have something to hide. Like
the searching gaze of Alaskan local cop Ellie Burr (Hilary Swank)
as she investigates Dormer’s account of a second killing that
occurs when an attempt to catch the killer goes tragically awry.
Like "the eye of God that will not blink," as Roger Ebert
describes the Arctic Circle’s midnight sun in his review of the
original film.

"A good cop can’t sleep because he’s missing a piece of the
puzzle. A bad cop can’t sleep because his conscience won’t let
him." These words, allegedly once spoken by Dormer himself, now
come back to haunt him. Night after night Dormer lies awake in
his hotel room, the sunlit window wreaking havoc with his
circadian rhythm; day after day Dormer feels the effects of the
lack of sleep.

Already haggard-looking on arrival, Dormer nevertheless starts
out sharp and effective, missing nothing as he reexamines the
victim’s body, finding details that eluded earlier examiners.
"This guy, he crossed the line," Dormer pronounces, "and he
didn’t even blink. You don’t come back from that."

But lines aren’t always so clear-cut when you cross them. What
lines has Dormer crossed in his long career of putting away bad
guys? Do his earlier compromises (and his worries about the
Internal Affairs inquiry — and of course his lack of sleep)
affect his judgment in a split-second decision during a botched
operation on a fog-bound day? Does all this then lead him to
cross another line — not for the sake of putting away the bad guy
this time, but to protect his own good name?

Then again, is there a difference, given that a scandal
involving Dormer could lead to the convicts who went to prison on
his word coming up for retrial, possibly acquittal? What other
lines will Dormer find it possible, even necessary, to cross in
order to prevent that? Will he kill a guilty man who knows his
secrets? Acquiesce to the framing of an individual who, while not
quite innocent, certainly isn’t guilty of anything like the crime
he’s being set up for?

These ambiguities and others are held up in Insomnia to
the harsh light of day. It’s film noir without the
noir — a device that, when pioneered by the original film,
led some to use the phrase "film blanche." If the ending
seems perhaps a bit whitewashed, it’s still a nicely cautionary
conclusion to this well-done morality play.

To further complicate matters, the actual killer — a mystery
writer named David Finch (Robin Williams in a career-changing
role) — knows more about Dormer’s situation than the detective is
comfortable with, and sounds creepily reasonable as he talks
about what he did, what Dormer did, and where they go from
here.

Both Pacino and Williams have the potential to go over the top
as actors, but Nolan elicits restrained, effective performances
from each of them, and their cat-and-mouse sparring is riveting.
Pacino comes across as wary and weary, relying increasingly on
pure instinct as lack of sleep erodes his other faculties;
Williams is repressed, introspective, and creepily ingratiating,
eager to explain that he and Dormer aren’t so different after
all. It’s Pacino’s best work in years, and, though some may be
unable to get past Williams’ comic baggage, one of the most
effective performances of his career. (It’s also his second of
three back-to-back creepy bad-guy roles: First came his murderous
TV host in Death to Smoochy, next up is what looks like a
voyeuristic stalker in 1 Hour Photo.)

As Dormer’s small-town junior colleague, Hilary Swank (Boys
Don’t Cry) is the third leg of this triangle; she’s chipper
and eager, somewhat overawed by the big-city detective whose work
she knows so well, but with an intelligence and competence
belying her inexperience.

Inevitably, Insomnia will be judged against two other
films: the Norwegian original, and Nolan’s most recent effort,
critical darling Memento. The
latter comparison, at any rate, is unfair: What made
Memento so startlingly novel was essentially an editing
gimmick (not a mere gimmick, since it has a plot-level
rationale, but a gimmick nevertheless), a backwards-winding story
that kept the audience as in the dark as its memory-impaired
antihero.

In Insomnia, though Nolan has a much more
straightforward story to tell, he does so with equal skill,
elevating the film’s intriguing but conventional plot elements
with striking cinematography, forceful imagery, and the gripping
interactions of the three principals. There’s a memorable set
piece involving a foot chase over a logjam at a pulp mill that
ends in a nightmarish death trap; and the vistas of Alaskan
wilderness, particularly the opening aerial footage of a
hauntingly rugged glacier, are as visually compelling as any of
the otherworldly sights in George Lucas’s latest Star Wars effects extravaganza.

With respect to the original Insomnia, some critics
have complained that Pacino’s character is less ambiguous and
morally compromised than his counterpart in the original, who
isn’t above framing an innocent or seducing a minor to advance
his investigation, and has been said in the end to seem if
anything less likable and reasonable than the murderer.

Not having seen the original, I have to say I appreciate the
fact that Dormer, though morally compromised, isn’t an
unsympathetic figure. Nor can I see that making the murderer
preferrable to the cop is an intrinsically meritorious
achievement; I can imagine appreciating a film that did this, but
I can’t see criticizing one for not doing it. At least you
can care about the characters and the events — something I
couldn’t say after watching Memento, for all its brilliant
storytelling. Insomnia is a satisfying thriller that
confirms Christopher Nolan as a talented filmmaker to
watch.